


your body told me in a dream (it's never been afraid of anything)

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Series: god should have made girls lethal [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Dreams, F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam keeps asking Dee what she’s dreaming about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your body told me in a dream (it's never been afraid of anything)

Sam keeps asking Dee what she’s dreaming about. It is dark, the road outside dusty and populated by three other cars. These cars are all new and, Dee assumes with a great deal of dismissal, made after 1970. The moonlight shines through the Impala's windows and makes lines across Sam’s lap where she has Dad’s book open with her finger bookmarking a few pages back from where she is. Sam looks at Dee and frowns.

“You always avoid this question.”

Dee sighs. Sam always asks and prods. She’s worried, which is a laugh riot when Dee thinks about it. Trust Sam to choose the very last thing on Earth anyone should care about. 

“I don’t know Sammy,” she says, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling in her lap. “Just normal stuff. Pants down at school, making out with Leonardo di Caprio. One time I dreamed I married a gorilla. We had three kids. It was a good life.” She grins, a wincing thing that tugs at the corners of her lips. Sam is shaking her head as she flips the page, licking her finger as she goes. 

“Dee, you don’t sleep sometimes,” Sam says. “I can hear you moving around. I know that when I couldn’t sleep it was because of the visions. I couldn’t close my eyes or there’d be death everywhere. Whatever you’re dreaming about, it has to be important, otherwise you wouldn’t be-“

Dee cuts her off by pulling into the parking lot of a small motel with a blinking red vacancy sign outside of Bisbee, Arizona. She shoves open the door and the dirt crunches underneath her boots. Sammy has a look on her face that says the conversation isn’t over. Dee pays for the rooms with a credit card that says Stevie Nicks and keeps her laughter to herself. Her sister is asleep on the bed nearest to the heater before Dee is finished in the bathroom. She curses December and its ability to turn even the desert chilly as she strips and gets into her pajamas with the glow of the TV making her looks sitcom-soft. She drops on the bed, fidgeting with the sheets until they form a cocoon around her and she drifts into an uneasy sleep.

She dreams about something curling its fingers in her hair and pulling it out, strand by strand. Her screams come out thin and her eyes burn with tears and fire. Someone is laughing in the background. It is unpleasant.

It’s 3 a.m. and Dee is woken up by a jostling of her arm. Castiel is settled on the covers, her skirt fanned out and her jacket tucked over the office chair near the television. Her hair is pinned in place, a wave of blue black curls over her shoulders. Dee rubs her eye with the back of her hand, still trying to guess if she is sleeping. Castiel shifts and turns to Dee.

“Hello, Deanna.”

“Oh my God,” Dee says, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow, “It’s 3 in the morning, Cas. Even the demons are asleep.” Castiel puts a hand on Dee’s shoulder and pulls her back over so that she is looking right at the angel’s unhappy face.

“Deanna,” Castiel says, “I am fully aware that demons, no matter the hour, do not rest.”

“It’s an exaggeration,” Dee says. “Although I don’t think I’m going too far in saying that any demon up at 3 in the morning is probably not at their best.”

“No,” Castiel says, leaning back against the head board and looking to the ceiling, “not many demons are, even at more reasonable hours.”

Dee nods and then lays her head back on the pillow, eyes open and searching Castiel’s face for a clue as to why she appeared in the room.

“Why did you poof here exactly, Cas?”

“I didn’t poof,” Castiel says, indignant. “Angels don’t poof places, Deanna. We descend.”

“No,” Dee says, grinning a little bit, “I’ve seen you teleport. You poof, like that fairy in Cinderella.” Castiel purses her lip and mumbles something that sounds like a dirty word.

“Why are you here Cas?” Castiel looks at Dee and then her face lights up. Dee might’ve likened it to a kid at Christmas, but the brightness of Castiel’s smile put the comparison to shame. She reaches on the bedside table and gives Dee a DVD. 

Dee pulls a face.

“27 Dresses?” Castiel nods and Dee rolls her eyes, “I’m not watching this chick flick crap, Cas. Especially not this frickin’ early.”

Castiel frowns and takes the DVD case back, fiddling with it in her hands. Dee wonders at how Sam can sleep through this when Castiel grins again like she’s had an idea. 

“What if I waited?”

“Waited?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, slow and in her best kindergarten teacher voice, “I will wait for you to sleep and wake up naturally, then we can watch the movie.” Dee squints at Castiel, waiting for the punch line. Looking at the clock, she sees nods in agreement, finding arguing with an angel less preferable to sleeping. She closes her eyes and can hear the rustle of Castiel finding a magazine to read. Her last thoughts before drifting off are something to the tune of: “Do angels enjoy Ladies’ Home Journal?”

The sun that streams through the window wakes Dee up, light slipping between her closed lids and pushing at her until she opens her eyes. There is something under her head. She tries to raise her head to check what is beneath her, but a hand presses her back down. Dee’s brain goes on high alert and she jerks upward, arms striking whatever is nearest. A firm hand catches her wrist and Dee looks into the face of a very unamused Castiel. 

“Uh,” Dee says, biting her lip, “didn’t see you there.”

“Quite.”

“Hey,” Dee exclaims, wiggling her wrist in Castiel's grip, “don’t be all snotty like that, Cassio-Keyboard. You are the one who got all touchy-touchy with my head.” 

Castiel releases Dee’s wrist and she rubs it. She gets a concerned look from Castiel for her troubles and grumbles that some stupid angels don’t know their own strength. 

“I know my own strength, Deanna,” Castiel says, adjusting her skirt from where Dee’s head had hiked it up, “You were just confused. I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If you insist,” Castiel says. “You woke up and-“

“I didn’t - ,” Dee says, putting a hand up, “I didn’t mean like that. It’s an expression.”

“You should warn me,” Castiel says, “before you say one of those. I am not always prepared.”

Dee sighs and runs a hand through her hair. In the background there are the sounds of car horns and Sam snoring. "Fine," Dee says, not looking at the unfiltered glee on Castiel's face. "Go put the stupid chick flick on." 

The TV makes a fuzzy noise as Castiel turns it on, popping like it hasn't been used in decades and needs to stretch. The angel bends over to inspect the DVD player and makes frustrated sounds when it refuses to open. Dee gets off the bed and shoves Castiel over, taking the DVD case and setting the disc in the player. A sugary sweet tune plays as the main menu comes up and there, Dee thinks with distaste, is Katheryn Heigel's mocking face. 

"What a bitch." 

Castiel gives Dee a questioning look. Dee sighs and settles back on the bed, arms folded resolutely over her breasts. "She thinks she’s too good for stuff, like Grey's Anatomy and that one Apatow movie where she's pregnant. That's just like, ugh, fucking stuck up you know."

"I don't. Who is Apatow and why does she think she is too good for a medical text?"

"It's not- ," Dee starts, "you know what? Never mind. Just play the movie."

Dee barely remembers the plot. She'd seen it once during some downtime after a selkie hunt in Florida. The sister had frustrated her. Who just comes around and expects to get someone's full attention? She snorts every time Katheryn whines about being a bridesmaid and wishes someone in this movie would get a fucking backbone. Her fingers find her necklace and the metal is cold against her skin. Cas makes pleased sounds when Katheryn snarks at James Marsden and Dee groans every time someone talks about weddings.

The movie progresses at a snail's pace. Dee's eyelids start to droop and before long she is losing large parts of the story to sleep. When she wakes up, her head is resting back on Castiel's lap and Castiel is stroking her hair. Castiel notices that Dee has woken up and looks down at her with eyebrows furrowed the way they do when Castiel is contemplating things.

"I will wake you up when Jane kisses Kevin," Castiel says in a grave voice. "I understand that is a turning point in the film." Dee nods, head a little foggy from sleep, and closes her eyes again. It feels nice to let Castiel touch her hair, a little like when her mom used to rock her to sleep when she'd have bad dreams. There is rustling Dee can hear in the background and a snort that tells her that Sam is definitely awake and also definitely seeing her head on Castiel's lap. Whatever, Dee thinks and falls back asleep.

Her dreams are quiet. She is on a beach. There are seagulls. Dee hates seagulls, as they remind her of rats and rats remind her of sewers and sewers remind her of that son of bitch 'shifter that stole her skin. She shivers. The sky is gray and there are clouds on the horizon. Dreams are stupid, Dee decides. Why does Sam even fucking care about them? She lies back on the sand and doesn't care if it gets in her hair. That's how she knows she's in a dream. 

There is the sound of wings beating against the wind near Dee. She doesn't look behind her. She doesn't have to. Fucking seagulls, she thinks.

She is woken up by Castiel shoving at her shoulder vigorously. "What," she says, "What’s the matter?" Castiel points emphatically at the screen and, of course, the kissing scene. James Marsden is not Dee's idea of an attractive man, but Castiel is glued to the scene as though it holds all the secrets of heaven and hell. Dee pushes herself up on her palms and looks away from the screen to see Sam on the other bed. She's got all her books open around her in a semi circle of research. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail with baby hairs sticking out wildly around her face. It is the halo of a deranged woman.

Castiel is watching the end credits and humming along with the shitty indie band lyrics. Sam looks over at them and smirks. 

"Having some girl time, Dee?"

"Suck a fuck, Sammy," Dee says, getting up from the bed to turn off the TV. "It was Cas' idea." She sets her shoulders straight and stands taller. Castiel brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her long arms around them. She's biting her lip. It is times like these when Dee wishes she could see Castiel's wings. They probably were ruffled. 

"I thought the film was good," Castiel mumbles, leaning back against the headboard. "I liked Jane. She reminded me of Deanna." Dee turns around to make a snarky remark and is stopped by how Castiel's eyes are trained on her as though Castiel is afraid she'll run. Dee wants to crush the stupid DVD in her hands.

"I ain't no wedding planner, Cas," she says, making her way to the bathroom, "And I wouldn't let Sammy touch the dude I was after. Not without a fight."

"I merely thought you both had strong personalities. You both are very loyal to your families." Castiel's voice is loud enough that it comes through the bathroom door. Dee presses her forehead against the glass of the mirror and pulls out her pony tail from the night before already loosened by Castiel's fingers. Her hair is stringy with sweat and day old product. She thinks of taking a shower.

When she opens the door Castiel is gone. Sam is off the bed and taping some of the pictures to the wall. She turns around at the sound of Dee poking her head out and grins. 

"So," she says, heedless of Dee's murderous expression, "how was your sleepover with Cas? Did you two talk about boys? Did you braid each other's hair?" Dee grumbles something at her and Sam laughs, turning back around. Dee's suitcase is open on the left side of her bed and she grabs a worn pair of Levi's and a camisole that has a blood stain on the bottom of it. She changes out of her pajamas, tucking her shirt into her jeans so the stain doesn't show. The shower can wait. It's easier to just do another ponytail.

The hunt is ridiculous. A few stupid kids decide it would be funny to try and summon demon and instead bring forth a vampire coven with a flair for the dramatic. Dee calls the leader Lestat because of his long blond hair and obvious addiction to silk shirts. It takes less than 2 days to track all the bloodsuckers down as their credit cards and shiny cars act as a breadcrumb trail.

They are much better at fighting than she expected. Sam has two tears on her abdomen that look pretty close to infection and a bruise on her neck where Lestat tried to choke her when she'd beheaded his mate. While Sam sews up her sides, Dee sleeps on the bed next to her and dreams that Alastair is pulling out her teeth one by one. She wakes up sweaty and makes Sam give her the rest of the whisky. It's only fair, she thinks.

There are still two vampires out and about, but they've been beaten into submission and have blood promised the sisters that they won't harm any humans. Dee doesn't understand why they can’t just gank them now, but Sam is insistent. Saving the world, she says to Dee in her memory, one monster at a time. Dee thinks there are a few monsters that can't go the path of the righteous (try all of them), but Sam's eyes go all soft when she talks about it.

There's a motel at the edge of Salt Lake that they stop at. It’s not ideal but at least she has a flask strapped to her thigh. The night can't go too bad. The room is small and someone decided that the colors red and grey should cover everything, but the beds are comfy and the TV works. 

“Take the good with the bad,” Sam says from the kitchenette that smells like stale popcorn, "the Winchester way." 

Her smile looks worn and Dee makes a note that she should get Sam lip gloss next time they are near a mall. She looks pretty with lip gloss on; and maybe she should get a new bra. Something with roses or hearts, girly and shit like that.

Look at you, Dee thinks, grinning, spoilin' her rotten. 

Sleep doesn't come to Dee Winchester that night. The sheets are scratchy on her legs (or maybe it's because she hasn't shaven in a week) and the fan is as loud as thunder. Sam is snoring from the kitchen table. This is a nightmare. Finally, she has enough and flips on the lamp. She glances at Sam, whose only reaction is to scrunch her nose and mutter in her sleep. Some people have all the luck.

There is nothing on the nightstand but a bible and a gun. Dee groans and falls back on the mattress. So it goes, she thinks. 

Dee feels a weight on her arm and she looks up at the angel who is sitting on it.

"Is this going to turn into a thing, Cas?"

Castiel shrugs and pulls out a DVD from her coat. "I don't believe you have anything else happening right now, Deanna."

Dee narrows her eyes and tries to snatch the DVD from Castiel, who holds it just out reach. Dee flops over Castiel's lap and wrestles the DVD from her grip, groaning when she sees the title.

"We are not watching this."

"I think we should. It was on a ‘Best Of’ list. I saw it on the television."

"No," Dee says. "Fucking 'You've Got Mail' is not on anyone's ‘Best Of’ list. Not from this decade."

"I happen to think that Meg Ryan is quite good," says Castiel, plucking the DVD from Dee. "And there is very good banter."

Dee frowned. "You've watched this before?"

"Yes," Castiel says as if this is old news, "I have. I enjoyed it. I would like to enjoy it with you." Dee rolled her eyes and pushed herself off of Castiel.

"Look," Dee says, rubbing a hand over her face, "I just want to sleep right now, Cas. Do you think you can help me with that?" 

"I can only help those who want to be helped Deanna." She glares at the angel and turns over so Castiel is facing her back. Firm hands clasp her shoulders and roll her over, pining her to the bed. Castiel hovers over her face, dark curls making a curtain around her face. There is no escaping those blue eyes now; Castiel’s Cupid's bow lips and strong brows are a beacon for Dee's lower parts to get warmer. Her face is so fucking serious, making Dee's arousal all the more inappropriate. It's like getting hot during Judge Judy, she thinks and then backtracks because Castiel is way hotter than Judge Judy. 

"You know, for a feathery chick," she says, voice cracking, "you are really fucking heavy." 

Castiel nods solemnly. "I can change my weight at will." 

"That's useful," Dee says, "in a totally not useful way. Stop crushing my pelvis, bird bones." Castiel presses her hands down harder on Dee's shoulders, making Dee wince.

"Do you know why are you not sleeping?" Castiel asks curiously, "Are you aware, Deanna, of why your dreams are like this? Why you are still dreaming of Hell?"

Dee freezes. "What?" She says, turning her head so she can stare Castiel down. "How do you know what I'm dreaming about, Cas?" 

The angel has the decency to look ashamed.

“Cas,” Dee repeats in a sharp whisper, “how do you know about my dreams?” Castiel bites her lip and takes a deep breath. 

“I have been watching over you while you sleep. You have trouble sleeping and I saw the cause was the Hell inside your head that you'd created. I sought to fix it.”

Dee shoves Castiel off and the angel falls easily. Her face feels hot from the mentioned intrusion.

“What the fuck, Cas?” She says, hands clenching and unclenching. “You tooled around in my head because I had a nightmare? What would make you think that was okay?”

“Nightmares.” Castiel props herself up on her elbows.

“What?” Dee hisses through her teeth. 

“You’ve had nightmares, plural. I merely -,” Castiel pauses, “I merely smoothed them over. Made them better.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“A month. Ish.”

“Ish? What the fuck?"

“I cannot be sure.” Castiel settles on the side of the bed and avoids Dee’s eyes. “I did not keep track.” Dee sighs heavily and pushes her hands through her hair. 

“It seems like that would be something you would keep track of,” she says, her tone sharp. “You know, your trespassing record, Cas? Seems important.” Castiel frowns but doesn’t reply. Her feet don’t touch the floor and she swings them back and forth. Dee rolls her shoulders, muscles twitchy with restlessness, and leans back against the head board. 

“So I haven’t been dreaming? I’ve been having nightmares?”

“Yes.” Castiel says, looking at Dee, who is staring at her own hands. “You’ve been having nightmares about Hell. Again.”

Dee purses her lips and looks at the ceiling. Her body becomes tight, each limb flexing as though there is anger coursing through her body. "Cas," she says, exhaling, "I have not been dreaming of Hell."

"You were," Castiel says, laying her cold hands over Dee's, "and I took them away."

"You say you took them away," Dee says, eyeing Castiel warily, "but where could you take them?" 

"A place where they will be safe from you."

Dee is silent for a moment and then her eyes widen in realization. "You took them inside yourself, like into your head. Jesus fuck Cas..."

"I did." Castiel doesn't look Dee in the eye, but there is a firmness to her tone that makes it seem as if she did.

"You can't do that," Dee exclaims, "That shit isn't - it isn't..." 

"It isn't as if I didn't know about your time in Hell, Deanna," Castiel says. "You shouldn't fear my judgment. I have none." Dee sighs and leans forward with her chin touching her chest. 

"I'm not afraid of you - ," Dee starts, breathing deeply, "of you seeing, Cas. I don't want you - I don't want you to have all that," she makes a gesture around her head, "in your head."

Castiel gives a small smile. "I don't mind, Deanna." 

Dee studies Castiel's face and reaches out to touch the angel's face. It's quick, the flash before a picture, when she dives in and kisses Castiel. There is a second where everything is still with a soundtrack of the rattling radiator and the sound of both women breathing. There is only the press of Dee's lips against Castiel's. Dee opens her eyes and finds Castiel hasn't closed hers'. She pulls back, a wet pop coming from their lips separating. 

Dee’s heart pounds with panic as she stares into Castiel’s wide eyes. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry,” she says, arms folding over chest. “I just thought…I wasn’t thinking.”

She blinks and Castiel is gone. She leaves the smell of apricots in her wake and the You've got Mail DVD behind. After a while, Dee throws the DVD in the trash and curls up on the bed so the covers engulf her.

Dee turns on the TV and watches reruns of Star Trek: The Next Generation until the sun streams through the motel windows. Her head aches like she’s been bashing it on a wall and her limbs feel stiff. Sam takes one look at her on waking and gets up from the table to settle next to her sister. Dee leans her head on Sam's shoulder and lets her eyes close. She and Sam's arms are tangled together on the bed and Sam is a furnace.

Dee dreams of red and fire and gasps when she wakes up to Sam shaking her shoulder. Her nose is buried in her sister's hair and it tickles, a bit. 

“You smell like apples,” Dee whispers into Sam's ear.

“Yeah,” Sam says, hand curling slightly over Dee’s. “That’s the shampoo that came with the motel. We can take some bottles if you like that. I mean, we will anyway, but…”

“I’d like that.” Dee sits up and swings her legs to the side of the bed. The day is starting.

The map is crumpled where Sam has let it stay in her palms too long, damp and scrunched so as to create canyons where there once was none. Dee's eyes stray from the page and study the worn down edges of her sister’s nails. The polish they put on months ago has chipped and left jagged streaks of red on Sam's fingers. Sam snaps her fingers at Dee. She looks up suddenly and shakes her head.

"Sorry," she says, focusing back on the map. "Distracted."

The case is in Nevada, at a small housing complex near Reno. Dee lets Sam drive, her head pressed against the Impala's window with the feeling of blood pounding in her head ruining her concentration. The clouds all look like sheep to her. One looks like wings. Dee closes her eyes for the rest of the trip and lets Sam's humming of “Wonderwall” calm her into sleep.

Dee dreams that she is on the shoreline of a beach, her feet wet from the ocean lapping at them. There are seagulls, millions of them, but she can only hear them. Loudly, wings beating against the sea wind. Dee wishes that they'd all fall down dead.

She's pulled into the ocean by her feet and there is red in her mouth, her eyes and her ears. Something grabs her, a heat on her upper arm, and Dee wakes up to Sam gripping her hard where Castiel's handprint is. Her hand is hot and sweaty and Sam's face is worried. They are in the parking lot of a motel.

"You were screaming," Sam says softly, eyes darting from Dee to the window. "The people next to us think we're crazy."

"Aren't we just?" Dee smiles, rusty but still good, and shoves the door open.

The ceiling is spackle in a dull eggshell color that leaves a bad taste in Dee's mouth. Her limbs feel heavy with tiredness and her eyes are begging to close. She tries to let the sound of Sammy's breathing lull her to sleep, but every time her eyes shut there is only red. After 20 minutes Dee grabs a blanket, a gun, slipped into the back of her sleep pants with the cold metal a shock to the small of her back, and one of the room cards. She checks on Sam, leaning over her sister to make sure her face is calm, and then grabs the car keys from the nightstand. The door makes no sound when she leaves.

Dee sits in the front of the Impala with her feet up on the seat and her hands cradling her face. It's chillier than she'd thought Nevada would be. She reaches out to turn on the car, hesitates, and then buries her hands into her armpits for warmth. Settling into the seat, Dee lets her eyes shut. It's the rush of cars on the highway next to the motel which pushes her into sleep this time.

She dreams of a beach and there are feathers everywhere. The air smells like sulfur and apples.

The feeling of chilly fingers on her skin beckons Dee from sleep and in the seat next to her is Castiel; hand reached out and gripping her upper arm. Her eyes look straight out the front window, hair askew around her face like she's been through the dryer. Dee looks out the same way, but there isn't anything there but dry brush and rows of dirty old doors. She looks back and her eyes trace the curves of Castiel's lips and face. 

Dee coughs and Castiel's staring match with the motel is broken. Her head swivels to meet Dee's gaze and her mouth opens as if she's going to say something, then closes. The silence in the car is thick and unsightly.

"So," Dee says. "You've been dream-stalking me."

Castiel nods. Her disheveled trench coat is bunched up around her hips. There is dirt beneath her finger nails. 

"Why?"

Castiel sighs and shuts her eyes. "You were drowning."

"But you didn't help me or anything," Dee counters, cheeks burning. "You just took my nightmares. You put them god knows where and sat me on a beach."

"I thought you'd enjoy the beach."

"I've never been to a beach," Dee says, voice quiet. "I've only ever seen them, sort of, in the movies. Maybe once during a hunt." 

Castiel stays silent and shrugs. Dee snorts and looks out the driver side window. Minutes crawl and nothing goes between the two but the chill of the wind. 

Dee breaks first. "But why did you take them? In your head, I mean. I saw some...," she pauses and lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, "some bad shit down there. It's - I mean, I don't want you to go wading in those waters, Cas. That's my shit to deal with, not yours."

Castiel lets out a loud bark of laughter and Dee almost jumps. Castiel's laugh is a sound somewhere between cruelness and sweetness. It bites at Dee's ears.

"There are so many bodies of water you think are yours to die in, Deanna Winchester," she says, eyes soft and mouth down turned. "But there are none that bear your name."

"You think I can't take the heat, Cas," Dee says, her hair wild as she jerks her head toward the angel. "I'm the one who was in Hell. I'm the one who hurt those people. I'm the one who let Sammy follow that Ruby, practically drove her into that bitch's arms. That's all me, at least give me that." She takes in air in big gulps and lays her head back, eyes closed and neck stretched out. 

Her voice is breathless as she says, "At least give me that."

It feels as if her whole body on fire. Her chest rises and falls with each breath gulped down. It's dark within her mind. Would that it could stay that way, she thinks.

A press of cold to the side of her face opens Dee's eyes. Castiel's lips are ice, but the feeling of shock is enough to warm Dee's cheeks. Castiel pulls back and Dee turns her head, the angel's face still close enough for their noses to brush for a moment. 

"Why are you dreaming of hell Deanna?"

"I," Dee says, leaning closer to Castiel, "I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing Sammy, of going back, of everything being for nothing. I'm afraid of falling again."

"I will catch you," Castiel says, her breath hot against Dee's lips. "I always will."

Fight or Flight, Dee thinks and presses her lips to Castiel's.

Castiel opens her mouth immediately and their teeth clash as Dee's tongue presses in. She is pleased to find the cold of Castiel's skin does not affect her hot, hot mouth. They kiss until Dee has to come up for air. She lets her head loll forward onto Castiel's shoulder and starts a trail of kisses, small and greedy, down her neck. Castiel brings her arms up on to Dee's hips and holds her close. Dee's hands come up and grasp Castiel's tie, twisting it between her fingers and tugging. 

Their mouths meet again and it is electric. The curves of Castiel's lips slip against Dee's chapped mouth, catching on the scratch of her skin. Something unbearably sweet is expressed in how tentative Castiel's tongue touches Dee's lips, asking permission to enter. She opens wide and their tongues tangle, wet and warm. Fingers tight on Castiel's tie, she uses it to pull the angel in close. Castiel's fingers on her hips feel like bruises, marks of the angel's presence on Dee as clear as the burn on her arm.

They come up for air after what seems like a lifetime. Dee leans against the angel and lets Castiel hug her close. 

"Well," Dee says into Castiel's neck, "that was something."

"Indeed."

"Tell me where you learned to kiss like that," Dee mumbles, "Couldn't have been angel school."

"Romantic movies."

"No shit?"

"None whatsoever. Just research. Anna also might have shown me a few things."

The hunter laughs and shakes her head, but is caught by Castiel's hand on her cheek. Her blue eyes are trained on Dee's and her face is serious.

"What?" Dee says. "Do I have something on my face?" 

"No," Castiel says. "I simply enjoy touching you."

Dee leans into her touch and closes her eyes. She falls asleep in Castiel's clutches and dreams of sinking in a warm ocean. She wakes up in an empty car, but Castiel has left her coat around Dee's shoulders and it smells like salt and sand. Dee buries her nose in it and takes a deep breath. Straightening up, she looks out the window into the motel parking lot. The sun is coming up in pinks and yellows.

Sam doesn't ask her about where she slept and says nothing about the stupid smile Dee can't wipe from her face. Dee lets her drive again and sings off key to every song that comes on the radio, even to the Genesis songs. There is a feeling in her bones that something has changed, her world gone a little off kilter, and it infects her muscles, her skin, until nothing in her body feels dark.

This must be what being alive feels like, she thinks as clear skies whip past them like a movie screen.

Some demons are terrorizing a new housing development, and are leaving kid's corpses in their wake. Nothing a sawed off and a few lines of Latin can't fix. Sam smiles with the echoes of red in her teeth and Dee pretends not feel fire licking her sides when she yells. They run before the cops see the blood on their hands.

They stay at the only motel in town which is rinky-dink and salmon colored. Dee finds the desert motif a little tired, but Sam seems attached to it in a way that defies logic. She is asleep when the lights go out, but Dee stays awake. 

Castiel appears late at night and immediately is laying on the bed next to Dee, facing her. She moves to put her arm around Dee's shoulder, but hesitates. Her fingers hover over Dee's skin and then shove themselves back into her coat pocket. 

"Hello, Deanna," Castiel says.

"Hello, Cas," Dee says, wiggling her arm underneath the angel's side and pulling her in close. "You took your time."

"Yes," she says, looking down and away from Dee's gaze. "I am aware it might have appeared that I was...ignoring you. I can assure you, Deanna, that I was-"

Dee presses a finger to Castiel's lips and shushes her. Pulling her finger away, she leans in and kisses Castiel chastely. Her face stays close when the kiss ends. 

"I have something I want to show you." Dee rolls off the bed, leaving Castiel on the bed and utterly shocked into silence, and picks up a DVD case that was sitting on the bedside table. It takes a few minutes of tampering for Dee to get the TV working and a few more for the player to agree to take the disc. The menu starts and Dee gets back on the bed next to Castiel. The angel sits up and moves to take Dee's hand. Dee pulls her hand away, grabs the remote and clicks play. She throws the remote on to the floor and curls herself around Castiel, head tucked onto the angel's shoulder. Castiel smiles, faintly, and strokes Dee's hair while the beginning credits beginning to roll. 

"What are we watching?" Castiel whispers.

"It's a classic," Dee says, looking up at Castiel and grinning, "The first Star Wars. Well, the real first Star Wars, not any of that prequel crap. A New Hope all the way, baby."

"I have heard of these films," Castiel says, her tone inquisitive, "Anna was quite fond of them. I am...unaware of why you have chosen to show me this."

"I figured, you know, that you might like it," Dee says, biting her lip, "because of how you were showing me those movies you liked. And then I would show you the ones I liked. So we can, um, be closer, you know, like that."

Dee, blushing something awful, turns her focus back to the TV. Castiel smiles and Dee sneaks her hand into Castiel's lap. The angel grips it, tight, and kisses the top of Dee's head.

The sounds of the movie wakes Sam up and she looks blearily at her sister and Castiel huddled on the bed. She shuffles over and snuggles in behind Dee, burying her face in Dee's back. 

"Hey, Sammy," Dee says, turning so she can take her sister under her other arm.

"Mmm," Sam mumbled, closing her eyes and curling closer. "'Sup, jerk."

Dee feels Castiel stiffen next to her and quickly kisses the angel's cheek to reassure her. 

"It's okay," she whispers. "She's practically asleep anyway."

Castiel relaxes and Dee pulls both her girls closer. Han Solo is in a shoot out on the screen and Sam starts snoring. When she looks up, Dee sees that Castel is enraptured with the happenings of the movie. She smiles and closes her eyes. Somehow, sleep comes easy.

Sam asks Dee what she's dreamed of the next morning, after they woke up still in the same bed but with no Castiel. She'd turned off the television and left the disc on the side table, along with having tucked Dee and Sam into the covers. 

"Nothing," Dee says, smiling. "I didn't dream of a single thing."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. This is my first time writing fic for this fandom and of course it's rule 63!Destiel with mentions of Sam and Ruby. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to Haley (valentinefromtheraven) who edited the first draft and told me all she could hear for fem!Cas was Misha's voice. Thanks also to my friends Toni (asandcastleheart) and Marisa for helping with the second draft and making sure I didn't have too many grammatical errors and a hug to Marissa (marleequinn) for making me post this. I'm just happy it's not sitting in my drafts anymore. :)
> 
> the title is from the Richard Siken poem "Detail of the Wood"


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